


Marvel Prompts

by noxes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers Family, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dancing, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Drabbles, Gen, Hugs, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insecure Peter Parker, Italian Tony Stark, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter is a Little Shit, Platonic Cuddling, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, References to Depression, Sad Peter Parker, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Suicide, Survivor Guilt, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tumblr Prompt, Weddings, headlock, prompts, who loves his dad very much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-08-24 01:48:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16630589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxes/pseuds/noxes
Summary: Tumblr drabbles set in the Marvel universe featuring Tony Stark being a hell of a lot softer towards his little spider mentee than he likes to let on.Leave a prompt in the comments!





	1. Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: ok but like irondad teaching peter how to dance because he doesn’t want to embarrass himself at Tony’s wedding pleaseeee

_“Next, shift your right foot back and bring your arm around to…”_

Peter groans in frustration, pausing the video and going back a few seconds. This was so hard! Why was dancing so difficult to learn?

“Okay, let’s take it from the top…” he mumbles in concentration, frowning at the screen.

“Whatcha doing?” comes a nonchalant voice from the doorway. Peter yelps and spins around to see a very amused-looking Tony leaning against the doorframe. “Wow, it’s not often that I can sneak up on  _you_ , kid. What’s goin’ on?”

Peter presses a hand against his chest and wheezes. He’d been so focused on the video he hadn’t heard Tony come down the hallway, even with his enhanced senses. “Dude, don’t  _do_  that.”

Tony chuckles and steps into the room. “Oh come on, you’re a superhero. Need to be on your guard at all times, yeah?” He peers around Peter, trying to see what he was doing. Peter flicks his fingers, dismissing the holographic projection. Tony, undaunted, swipes Peter’s phone off the table, says “Pull that back up, FRI, willya?” and flicks the video back onto the holoscreen.

“A dance tutorial?” Tony asks incredulously, reading the video title. “What’s this all about?”

Peter blushes a brilliant crimson and shuffles his feet, staring at the carpet. “Uh, I uh, I-I need to, to, to learn. How to dance.”

“No duh, kiddo, I mean  _why_  do you need to learn how to dance?”

Peter rocks back and forth, teetering on the brink of saying something important. Tony softens a bit, placing a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Come on, _cucciolo_. You know you can tell me, right?”

 _Oh,_  Tony was bringing out the big guns now with the pet names. Peter bit his lip, then blurted out in a rush, “ _Idon’twanttoembarrassmyselfatyourwedding.”_

Tony jerks back in surprise, sputtering. “What- I-  _embarrass_ yourself?? Pete, you’re not going to embarrass yourself at my wedding just because you don’t know how to dance. Dancing’s hard; I even know some adults who don’t know how to do it!” 

Peter shakes his head, dismissing the holoscreen again. “It’s not- that’s not the same thing- this is supposed to be  _your night_ , this is huge, I mean you’re getting  _married,_ for Thor’s sake, I’m not gonna  _screw this up_  for you just because I have no idea what I’m doing!”

He cuts himself off with a sharp gasp. Tony takes advantage of this, taking Peter’s face in his hands and tilting it up so Peter has to look him in the eye. 

“Peter. Do you know why you were invited to my wedding?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, plowing onward. “I invited you because you’re my  _friend_. No, more than that- you’re my  _kid._   _Mine._  By the time the reception’s over,  _everyone’s_ gonna know that. I mean, have you  _seen_  how I act around you? You’re making me soft, Pete, I get a serious case of the warm fuzzies whenever I see you, and everyone I know noticed it before I did.”

Tony tilts his head, letting a small smile curve his lips, letting the pads of his thumbs stroke Peter’s cheekbones. “Now, if that’s the case- and it  _is_ \- do you honestly, genuinely believe you could ever,  _ever_  embarrass yourself at my wedding? The wedding, I’ll remind you, that I invited you to? There is nothing you could do that would make me ashamed of you, _tesoro_.”

Peter’s kind of crying a little bit now. Tony swipes his thumb under Peter’s eye, smudging the tears away. Leaning in, he kisses Peter’s forehead.

“If it’s bothering you that much, then I’ll teach you how to dance. Video tutorials suck,” Tony says with a grimace. Peter snorts. “Yeah, I didn’t understand this one at all.”

“Actually, Pep should probably teach you,” Tony muses. “Yeah. Pepper’s good at dancing.”

“But, Mr. Stark, aren’t you good at dancing too?”

“No. Pepper always leads when we dance.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Surprisingly, I’m not, this time,” Tony smirks ruefully. “All right then. Family dance lesson?”

Peter nods and tries not to cry again. “Sounds great, Mr. Stark.”

“Oh come on, at least call me  _Tony_ , you little jerk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nickname translations:
> 
> Cucciolo - puppy/cub/baby animal in general
> 
> Tesoro - treasure


	2. Headlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody sneak-hugs Peter Parker and gets away with it!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't need to make this unnecessarily fluffy but
> 
> i did.

Peter sneaks a glance at Tony’s back. 

His mentor is bent over a project that he’s been working on for weeks now, the gleam of metal visible through the gap between his arm and his chest. AC/DC blasts overhead, but Peter can still pick up the sound of Tony humming along, his fingers tapping and leg bouncing in time to the beat of the song.

Now’s his chance.

A little backstory: a few weeks ago, Tony snuck up behind Peter while he was listening to music, totally unsuspecting. His sixth sense generally picked up on things sneaking up behind him with malicious intent, but for some reason it almost never flared when he was around Tony.

Never. In fact, being around his mentor calmed the constant hum of  _dangerdanger_  in the back of his skull, made it fade to a low buzz, to almost nothing at all.

(Peter had always had anxiety, and whether the spidey sense exacerbated the disorder or vice versa, Peter didn’t know. All he knew was that he was constantly anxious and jittery, now. 

Except when Tony was around.)

So, Peter was walking with his earbuds in, right? Totally unsuspecting. Totally relaxed. 

And then Tony pounced and wrapped his arms around Peter from behind, lifting him into a great spinning hug. Peter shrieked and struggled to get free, but he’d been caught totally off guard. After spinning him around a few times, Tony planted a big wet kiss on the back of his head, eliciting a half-disgusted-half-affectionate groan from Peter, and set him back down on his feet, sauntering away as if nothing had happened. The big jerk had the nerve to  _whistle a tune_  while Peter stood there in disbelief.

 _No one,_  he vowed,  _sneaks up on Spider-Man like that and gets away with it._

So. Here’s his chance. Tony is totally distracted, and he can’t hear shit over the blaring music.

Peter sets down the homework he was working on, sneaks up behind Tony…

…then, with a yell, he jumps onto Tony’s back, wrapping his legs around his mentor’s waist.

The effect is electrifying. Of course it is. Getting jumped by a shrieking teenager when you’re that far in the zone is a scarring experience. Tony stiffens, his back arching as he leaps out of his seat, releasing a cry of surprise and spinning to try and find his assailant. Imagine his surprise when said assailant spins with him, clearly stuck onto his back, now giggling into his ear.

“What…what the hell…oh my fucking _…_ what  _was that?!”_ Tony yelps, twisting his head to look over his shoulder at that thrice-damned baby-faced spider nerd. 

“Yeah, not so fun, is it?” Peter says, still laughing. “Kinda sucks when it happens to  _you_ , doesn't it?” He can see when Tony starts to realize it was a revenge prank.

“You…little…shit…you scared…the absolute…fucking…oh my lord…once I get my breath back…” Tony threatens, making no move to try and get Peter off his back.

“You’ll what?” Peter challenges, resting his chin on Tony’s shoulder and grinning at him when he turns to glare. “Huh? Whatcha gonna do, Mr. Stark? Wha-at.”

“Take your suit away for a month, that’s what,” he growls.

“Nnno you won’t.”

“Yeah? Why not, then?”

The kid smiles. “You love me.”

Tony rolls his eyes and tugs Peter off his back and into a gentle headlock. “You’re a little shit.”

“Yoooou looooove meeeeee~” Peter sings even as he squirms to get out of the headlock. He feels Tony’s chest shake with laughter. The headlock loosens, Tony’s arm coming to rest around his kid’s shoulders.

“Alright alright alright,” the mechanic murmurs. “Alright. I do. Happy now?”

“Say it,” Peter says.

Tony pulls back, gives him a warning glance. “Uh-uh, don’t you go making me  _voice my emotions_  now.”

“Say it.”

“I’m gonna put you back in the headlock.”

“Say it, Mr. Stark!”

“No.”

“Please?”

“…”

“Pleeeeaaase?”

Tony sighs, shuffles, mutters. “Using the puppy dog eyes on me is a  _dirty move_.”

Peter pouts his bottom lip out, crinkling his eyebrows and widening his eyes.

Tony doesn’t react, turning his face away from Peter. Undeterred, the boy moves around him to see what’s wrong…only to get dragged into another fierce hug.  _Argh, sneak attack! Not again!_

Tony laughs as Peter starts squirming again, pressing a long kiss onto the crown of his head. “I love you, kid. So much. You satisfied now?”

“No,” Peter grumbles. “You fight dirty, Mr. Stark.” He feels the closest person he has had to a father smile into his hair.

“Ah, you love me.”


	3. Tired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: taking over seat and booping nose
> 
> so anyway this turned out really hurt/comfort-y despite this being an ask intended for pure fluff. I'M SORRY
> 
> (i like italian tony. :] )

Peter sighed through his nose, long and hard. 

Today had been a Bad Day. A really, real bad one, a real kick-in-the-nuts-and-laugh kind of day. The kind the universe throws at you to keep you in your place. One of those.

That’s what he told Ned. “One of those days, you know?” 

That’s also what he told May, earlier that morning. And what he told MJ, when she asked why he was so out of it during the decathlon meeting. And what he told Flash, when he demanded to know why Peter wasn’t even  _trying_  to fight back.

Amazingly, Flash left him alone after that. They all did. May was understanding, giving him a bagel and a hug on the way out. MJ shrugged and only asked him easy questions from that point on.

Ned, on the other hand, nodded and said, “Ohh, okay,” because he had bad days too. Not Bad Days, but still pretty bad. He understood. He got it. And for the rest of the day, he covered for Peter in all their classes, answering questions, providing explanations, taking on most of the work in their group project like a champ.

Peter walks the the tower with guilt panging at him. Guilt for his friend, working hard to make up for Peter’s incompetence. Guilt for the people in his life, MJ, May, even Mr. Stark, all trying to make up for his mistakes.

Guilt for other things, too. Deeper things. Guilt for the woman he couldn’t save from being mugged. The old man who was robbed in the apartment next to them while he was out patrolling. The boy, younger than him, with the lines up and down his arms, looking up at him with the pistol under his chin, and Peter had stopped, had frozen up with his spidey sense shrieking because of the gun.

_Gun. Gun gun gun gun gun stop stop gun stop please gun run runrun Ben nonono gun. Please._

But the boy didn’t listen to his pleading. His eyes were hollow. His blood was red, and it was everywhere.

 _So sorry so sorry._  Peter was, had been so sorry, curled up in a ball and crying and hiccuping and apologizing next to the boy’s body until the light had turned grey.

That was yesterday.

So. Now he was walking to the tower. He was going to work in the lab, with Mr. Stark. He was going to laugh and smile and talk like he usually did.

Except when he got to the tower, the elevator took him up to the top floor for some reason. Penthouse. He was tired. He needed to sit.

 _Just for a second_ , he thought, sitting on the couch.  _I’ll just sit for a second. Just for a little bit._

He sat and he breathed. 

There was a pillow next to him, and a tablet. A StarkPad. Peter didn’t really register why it was there, just that it was an obstacle. He really needed to lay down or something. Placing the tablet on a nearby coffee table, he flopped over onto the pillow, releasing a deep sigh.

Guilt. Guilt sitting heavy on his chest, filling his veins with cool cement. Guilt for the boy, the old man, the woman. For his parents. (Don’t get on the plane.) For his Uncle Ben.  _(pleaseno)_  For all the lives he’s ruined simply by being himself.

Gods. He’s so  _so tired._  So tired and so sorry.

So sorry.

* * *

Tony nearly spat out his coffee.

He was. So not prepared for this. The kid was not waiting downstairs like he should be, he was right there, curled up on the couch (in Tony’s seat, he might add) eyes closed and breathing deep.

Oh, hell. He was asleep. He managed to come up here and fall asleep in the ten minutes that Tony was gone. How.

Tony’s question was answered when he stepped closer, inspecting the kid a little more closely. He didn’t like what he saw.

Peter’s face was drawn and pale, looking thinner than it usually did. Dark shadows stood out starkly against the pale skin, and his brow was furrowed even in sleep. What Tony could see of his closed eyes was red from crying.

He looked like he was in pain.

Tony ran a careful hand through Peter’s hair, checking for bumps or cuts (and also maybe because Peter’s hair was curly and he absolutely loved that). Failing to find any, he decided to wake Peter up, ask what was wrong.

When Peter opened his eyes, they were dark and sad and empty and that was  _unacceptable_. Peter’s eyes never looked like that.

Tony got him to sit up. He did so mechanically, jerkily, like movement pained him. Like even the simplest things were hard.

Oh, yes. Tony’s seen this before. He’s felt it before.

It’s guilt. That heaviness in his limbs, that emptiness in his eyes–that’s guilt.

Tony asked him what was wrong.

Peter wasn’t like Tony. He wasn’t stubborn. He couldn’t pull up a mask as easily. Even so, Tony was surprised when Peter began to tell him.

* * *

Mr. Robertson, in the apartment next to May and him. Always gave Peter a butterscotch candy when he saw him. Lost everything he had in a robbery. An 89-year-old man.

The woman in the alleyway, crying because someone stole her purse, and her wallet, with the pictures of her kids in there. Her name was Lobelia. Peter had sat with her until she was ready to go to the police station.

The boy.

Nameless. Empty. Dark eyes, dark with pain. Dark skin, marred by the lines, pale for the old scars, red and pink for the recent ones. Didn’t say a word. Died without a name, or a family, or a reason.

_Sorry. So, so sorry._

Ben. He froze up.  _He froze up!_ He could have saved that boy. Webbed the gun away. But he was scared. So scared of the gun. The pistol.

Peter blanked for a little bit, sobbing and shaking and finally  _feeling something_ , except the feeling is bad. But it felt good to let it go–even just a little bit.

He came back to himself, and was terribly cognizant of the fact that he was in Mr. Stark’s arms, that he broke like a fragile vase in front of Iron Man.

He sniffed and tried to pull back, but the arms around him wouldn’t let him go, and they were so strong, so solid and secure. Peter felt safer here than he had in a long, long time, so he sniffed and hid his face in his mentor’s chest.

Mr. Stark rubbed circles into his back, shushing him gently and saying,  _“it’s okay, you’re okay”_ over and over. 

“I’m sorry,” Peter choked out, because it’s embarrassing and it’s stupid. “I, I, I don’t know- I’m sorry, so, so sorry-”

“ _Shhh, piccolo,”_  Tony’s voice rumbled in his chest, next to Peter’s ear. His lips pressed against Peter’s hair and stayed there. “You did nothing wrong. Don’t be sorry.”

Italian. That’s right, Tony was Italian. Like May. In spite of himself, Peter smiled at the term of endearment, sniffed and wiped his eyes.

“ _Grazie,”_  he said, hiccuping a little. And then, because he still felt the guilt- “ _Mi dispiace.”_

“ _Shhh_ , no more,” Tony said. “No more apologizing. Also, why didn’t you tell me you know Italian? I’ve been calling you  _‘patatino’_  this whole time and you never called me out on it? Come on, Parker.”

“Well,” Peter says, grinning a bit, “to be fair, you were calling me ‘potato’ and that’s cute.”

“Italian moms always call their kids ‘potato.’ Hell, my mom called me  _‘patatino’_  until I was in grad school and I never even bothered to figure out what it meant until then.”

Peter smiled at that mental image, then sobered when Tony tipped his face up to look him in the eye. “Level with me here, kid. Are you gonna be okay? What happened last night…first of all, wasn’t your fault, and second of all, was absolutely horrible and you never should have seen that.”

Peter frowned. “Wasn’t my–Mr. Stark, I  _froze._  I could have saved him, but I locked up, and I couldn’t–I couldn’t-” Tony cuts him off by poking the end of his nose, making him blink and look up.

“PTSD is a bitch, Parker,” Tony said quietly. “What happened with your Uncle Ben was some heavy shit. You froze up because you saw the gun and had a flashback, from the sound of it. That’s not on you, Pete.”

Peter stared at him, then lowered his gaze, taking a few deep breaths. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. Okay.” 

Tony nodded and brought his hand to the back of Peter’s head, pressing it into his sternum. “You’ll be okay,  _mimmo_ ,” came the gentle voice above him, accompanied by the mechanic’s lips pressing against the top of his head again and again, soft and sweet. “You’ll be alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italian translations:
> 
> piccolo - little one
> 
> Grazie - thank you
> 
> Mi dispiace - I’m sorry
> 
> patatino - potato (common term of endearment in Italy)
> 
> mimmo - baby


	4. Hollow Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Can you write a fic where Peter (I saw this in a post) weights much lesser than before he got bitten by the spider. I saw a post that said that Peters bones could change somehow, and weight less. Like people would help him get up after falling and would throw him across the room. (maybe a bit of dad!Tony?)
> 
> civil war don't exist in this house.

Steve didn’t know what he was expecting when Tony came in, but it sure as shit wasn’t  _this._

He’d woken up at dawn and gone for a run, as per usual, yelling “on your left” every time he passed Sam and laughing at the angry swears he got in response. Clint and Bruce were attempting breakfast when he got back, only to be shooed out of the kitchen by Sam. Steve followed him in and started on the eggs, even though Sam grumbled.

Bucky and Nat had emerged half an hour later, looking wide awake despite having probably just woken up, their bare feet totally silent on the floors. Bucky had mumbled a brief greeting to everyone while Nat had snuck up behind Clint and stuck her finger in his ear by way of a “good morning.” The yelp she got in response was rather high-pitched for a guy Clint’s age.

Wanda had poked her head around the corner cautiously, then stepped out into the kitchen with a quiet “hello.” Vision had calmly phased through the floor, startling Bruce so badly he spat out his coffee. Thor had appeared, fully dressed and grinning almost manically at the smell of breakfast.

“Where are Stark and the Man of Spiders?” Thor boomed. “Are they not awake yet?”

“Nope,” Bucky grunted into his coffee mug. “Pete’s a teenager, and he has patrol at night, so he sleeps in til 11 on patrol nights, generally.”

“And Stark?” Thor said, looking around like he expected Tony to jump out from behind a potted plant.

“Tony’s a late sleeper, especially when Pepper doesn’t get him up,” Natasha explained. “She had a business meeting that dragged into the late hours, so she’ll be sleeping in too. Also, Peter had a nightmare.”

 _That_  got the team’s attention. Peter was the baby of the group, and besides that, he was the nicest guy any of them had ever met, especially for a superhero. Bucky even had once confided that Peter reminded him of a pre-serum Steve (only less high-strung). 

There was definitely an unspoken rule to protect him, particularly since he had already gone through so much.

Bruce set down his mug. “He’s probably in their room, then.”

“Which means they’ll be waking up even later than usual,” Wanda groaned.

“Cut ‘em some slack, they’ve been through a lot,” Clint said. 

The rest of the breakfast-making went rather smoothly, punctuated by Clint throwing bits of fruit at people and Wanda having to physically hold Vision back from helping prepare the food.

So. Now the breakfast is all laid out, the team’s beginning to eat, sitting casually on the counters and floor, and then Tony and Peter shuffle in.

Or rather, Tony shuffles in with Peter asleep on his back.

Ignoring the team’s stares and the surprised silence, Tony reaches up to the cupboard for a plate, totally unconcerned about the teenager wrapped around him.

“Uh,” Clint finally says. “Uh, Tony?”

“Mmm?” Tony responds, digging around in the silverware drawer.

“Nice backpack,” Bucky snorts. 

“Thanks, I got it at the dollar store,” Tony says, smiling when Peter opens one sleepy eye and glares at him, then closes the eye and falls back asleep.

“Dude, you aren’t using your hands. How…?” Sam says. Peter’s wrapped around Tony like a koala bear, totally unsupported while Tony spoons eggs onto his plate.

“Oh, he’s stuck,” Tony says offhandedly.

There’s a short pause.

“He’s what,” Thor says blankly. Steve shifts upright from where he was leaning on the counter and steps over to where Tony is standing. Putting his hands under Peter’s armpits, he lifts up slowly.

Peter doesn’t come unstuck. He is very firmly stuck to Tony’s back.

“Steve, you’re lifting  _me_  up,” Tony grunts. Steve grins and lifts Peter a little more until Tony’s feet aren’t touching the floor. Steve isn’t touching Tony at all. It’s like he’s picking Tony up by his backpack.

The whole team is laughing hysterically by this point. Peter groans, lifting his curly, sleep-mussed head and glaring at all of them. This, obviously, does not make them stop laughing.

With a sigh, Peter unsticks his hands and feet from Tony’s chest, letting him drop back onto the floor and continue making breakfast, and Steve staggers suddenly because the shift in weight is…rather extreme.

Shifting Peter around so he’s facing him, Steve levels him with a concerned look. “Wow, you are…very light.  _Really_  light. How much do you weigh, like ninety pounds?”

“Eighty-eight even,” comes Tony’s monotone voice.

Bruce clears his throat. “Is that…uh, is that…healthy?”

“Spider DNA,” Peter slurs. “S’all bullshit, man.”

And with that, he swings forward and wraps himself around Steve, much the same way as he did around Tony (except he’s on Steve’s chest, rather than his back).

Peter’s exhausted from the nightmare, so he spends the rest of the day sleeping…and being carried around by his teammates.

“This had better not become a thing,” he says at some point from his vantage point on Thor’s back. “You guys carrying me around.”

“Are you kidding?” Natasha says, grinning. “You’re so light, Steve’s gonna lift you off your feet every time he hugs you now.”

Peter groans. The team laughs.


End file.
